


December Fluff Challenge

by fictorium



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Femslash, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Worst Witch Winter Fluff Event
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: In which I do a ficlet every day (ideally) for the lovely list of prompts. Hicsqueak for now, but maybe other pairings will jump in later, who knows?





	1. First Snowfall

1\. First snowfall

It's Ada who finds her, just after the owls hoot to signal the hour has turned two. 

"Hecate? Your last patrol is at midnight. Was something wrong?"

A foolish place to wait, perhaps, in the turret closest to the staff bedrooms, but it's the only one large enough to sustain a small, magical fire for warmth. Not to mention that it's the one corner of the building that faces in the exact direction of Pentangle's.

"No incidents to report; even Mildred went promptly to bed," Hecate confirms, not pulling her gaze from the window. "All is well, Ada."

"And yet here you are, awake and watchful." There's no reproach in Ada's words, merely the knowledge of a long and dear friendship. "Still early for any incoming brooms, wouldn't you say?"

"I am not..." Hecate loses the snap from her voice as quickly as it appears. This is not an intrusive student. "Can't you smell it? In the air?"

Ada makes a show of sniffing. "Ah. The first snow, unless I'm much mistaken."

"Snow is... difficult. It takes so many additional spells and charms to fly safely. And this is the first weekend, the first since..."

"Since you and Pippa finally saw sense, you mean?" 

Hecate nods. Having a personal life is new and disturbing enough. Having one that is semi-public is excruciating. And yet, entirely worth it, for the clever words and soft kisses and... well, hopefully more, soon, with Pippa.

"If the snow falls before dawn, she'll surely have to change her plans."

"And we are witches, Hecate. There's more than one way to transport a witch. Especially one with Pippa's resources. Now, why don't you try and get some sleep, so you're rested for her visit?"

"I suppose you're right." As Hecate turns to leave, she sees it. The first snowflake. It tumbles from the clouds as though never intending to fall, and her breath catches in her throat. Sure enough, a handful more start to sprinkle until a flurry has built. She watches in silence, until the Maglet in the pocket of her robes trills with an alert. 

Here it comes. The inevitable disappointment. 

Pulling the reader out to get it over with, Hecate can't hide the wistful smile at seeing Pippa's name. A reluctant tap of her fingertip, and the words appear.

_Hiccup, I know you'll be awake and fretting about the snow. Luckily, I have a backup plan, and I'll still be arriving by ten. Do try to sleep, darling. See you soon. Love, Pippa._

Well, that rather changes things. Hecate feels her mood lift as surely as if she'd downed a levitation potion. "Goodnight, Ada. Thank you... for checking on me."

"You'd have done no less for me," Ada replies. "Sweet dreams."

With a wave of her hand, Hecate transports herself directly to the side of her bed. Setting the Maglet aside, she throws herself under the sheets like a child eager for Christmas. Closing her eyes, she knows that when they open again she'll be that much closer to seeing Pippa, for their first weekend alone and free of teaching duties. Perhaps a long walk in the snow will be in order. No, bad weather is best to be sheltered from, so they'll have to spend their time indoors. With a delighted smile, Hecate relaxes and lets sleep claim her.


	2. 2. Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate visits Pentangle's in the run up to Christmas. The contrast between the modern witching school and Cackle's has her worried that she and Pippa are too different to fit together. Then the pupils get chatty.

Her skin itches in the strange, sterile space. No flagstones or wooden beams here. No helpful drafts to let you know which way the wind is blowing. Perhaps these guest 'lectures' are a mistake. Still, Hecate finds she'll take any excuse to see Pippa these days, drunk and giddy on their mended friendship, on their newly-restored closeness and even, perhaps, the spark of something more than fizzes through every exchange. 

There is logic, at least, to these clean white surfaces. Charmed to clean themselves at the end of every lesson, they're also made from durable materials that humans use to protect from spills. The bright lights hurt Hecate's head at first, leaving her yearning for the soft flicker of candlelight, but it is much easier to measure and consider the colour of potions in this light. As Pippa often says, why not marry the best of both ways? 

"Miss Hardbroom?" One of the _boys_ calls on her with a raised hand and consummate politeness. This, Hecate will never get used to. She accepts that warlocks are part of their world, and always have been. What she continues to find unpalatable is how witches do the real work, the heavy lifting both emotionally and magically, only for men to be granted the senior positions and much of the credit. For a society founded on the power of witches, they've been remiss in allowing such... infiltration. 

Still, it hasn't spread to Pentangle's entirely. Here, the boys are expected to shoulder their load and compete on an equal playing field with the girls. And so, Hecate permits the question from young... Percy?

"Yes?"

"Is it true you created the famous-"

"Miss, is it true that you're Miss Pentangle's wife?" Another girl talks right over him. Not so polite then. "Only, if you two are married, why is she still a 'Miss'? You are, too."

"We are not... married," Hecate answers, though she'd rather disappear altogether. "And the personal lives of your teachers is none of your business."

"Actually miss," Percy chimes in. "Miss Pentangle says that we shouldn't keep secrets, that we learn from the lives of the adults around us as much as we do from lessons. It's why we know we can ask our teachers anything."

 _Clearly_ , Hecate thinks to herself. "Well, there is no secret marriage. You can all return your attention to your Sleeping Draughts." Her most intimidating manner seems to simply bounce right off these children. Much like it always has with Pippa.

"Are you just girlfriends then?" Percy asks, and the raise of one eyebrow has some effect on him, because he blurts out one last question. "Or would you just like to be?"

"Now, class," Pippa's voice rings out from the doorway. "What have I told you about the difference between polite interest and prying?"

They have the decency to hang their little heads for a moment. 

"And before any of you try to sell me out," Pippa continues, her bright smile wavering for the first time since Hecate arrived. "Miss Hardbroom is hopefully well aware by now that I'd like to be her girlfriend. We must always respect the wishes of others when they don't feel the same as we do."

With that, Pippa is gone again and Hecate is stricken. She can't seem to swallow, her hand fluttering to her throat as though it might resolve the cold panic that has gripped her.

"Class, continue with your potions," she says, as soon as she can form words. "I must... where..."

"When she has no lessons you'll find Miss Pentangle in the courtyard, usually," Percy supplies. Picturing the shaded, tree-filled space, Hecate is already on the move.

"Pipsqueak?" She calls out. If ever there were a time for a fond nickname. "Did you mean what you just said?"

"Of course I did," Pippa replies, stepping out from behind a wizened tree. It's one of the only ancient things within the grounds, a remnant of the original Pentangle's Academy. "We have a culture of transparency here. We find it's much better for stress and other mental health concerns of teenage witches. And those considerably older."

"Would... you would..."

"Yes, Hiccup. Haven't I made it plain? Spending every free day together? Inviting you here, or myself to Cackle's, at every opportunity? I've flirted and flattered and shared my feelings with you. Has it really not been obvious?"

"I suppose," Hecate admits. "But I was so overjoyed to have our friendship again. I feared that if I misinterpreted, I might lose you again. Forever, this time."

"Hecate?"

"Yes?"

"Misinterpret this." Pippa steps in close and places her hands on Hecate's cheeks, a little pink in the winter cold. She kisses Hecate sweetly on the lips, the barest of pressure at first until Hecate responds. Between them, and their mutual relief, the kiss becomes something much deeper and more desperate. Somewhere in the press of lips and touch of tongues, they forget to regulate their breathing. When they part, long moments later, they're both flushed and a little breathless. 

There's a muted cheer from the direction of the potions lab. Hecate simply rolls her eyes. "I believe I understood your intentions this time, Pippa."

"Good. Then let me dismiss your class and we'll find somewhere more private for... further interpretation. It so happens that my private quarters are just across the courtyard. You could wait for me there?"

"Very well," Hecate agrees, as though they're just agreeing a school-related meeting. As though her heart isn't about to beat out of her chest and tear asunder the black lace she wears like armour. "I'll be waiting."

"Not for much longer," Pippa promises, stealing one more kiss. "I think we've waited quite long enough."

With that, she's gone. Hecate doesn't allow herself to hesitate, or have a second thought for once. She marches across the grass in the direction Pippa indicated, feeling the crunch of frost beneath her heeled boots. Small lights twinkle in the trees overheard, a nod to the coming season. When she reaches the door marked 'Headmistress - PRIVATE' she realises it's already charmed to open at her touch. 

Oh. Well. 

She slips through the open door and drinks in the space that's so uniquely Pippa. Checking her watch on its chain around her neck, Hecate considers a moment before removing the piece of jewellery entirely. This is no time to count seconds, to tut with impatience. Pippa will return when she's ready, and there'll be no need to watch the clock when she does. They have time, at long last, and Hecate doesn't intend to waste a moment of it.


	3. 3. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hecate is being very thorough about her spell preparation. Well, isn't she always?

Pippa spots the problem the moment she walks into the Potions classroom, but she opts to say nothing, taking a seat in the back row instead. It's enough to know that she flusters Hecate even now, years on from gold and silver dresses and dares that never quite became kisses, try though Pippa might. 

The class are restless, the Yule festivities of the evening already pulling at their attention. Cinnamon, cloves, and the sterile scent of pine mingle in the air throughout the castle, and there's no ignoring the flurry of snow falling beyond the classroom windows. The only one not staring wistfully at a Christmas card brought to life is Hecate, who's counting and checking her ingredients for the final spell of the lesson. 

"Strange," she mutters, and Pippa feels her own attention re-centre on the beautiful angles of that studious expression, the richness of the dark hair caught up in a perfect bun. That high collar, those elegant hands, the lace that just cries out to be a texture beneath Pippa's fingertips. And yet, she has to wait a little longer. Her plan is almost complete. 

"Is there a problem, Miss Hardbroom?" Of course it's Ethel, eager for yet another assignment, another way to excel. That enthusiasm must be fostered, but Pippa can't help wondering if the old ways at Cackle's also bring out the worst in that sort of witch. 

"Surely you have some stirring to do, Ethel Hallow?" Hecate's dark eyes are instantly stormy, but beneath a furrowed brow. Pippa aches to reach out, to explain the incongruity that Hecate sees in front of her. Except this stubbornness, this insistence of Hecate's that she sees the world only as it is, that she can make no mistake so long as she's deliberate and methodical, is something Pippa needs to disperse once and for all. 

In the end, running down the clock does it. Hecate materialises texts to check, roots around in her potions store, but still she returns to the ingredients on her desk and stares at them in confusion. 

The bell rings and the girls pour out without waiting to be dismissed. They must know by now that they're all but invisible to a distracted Potions Mistress. 

"Haven't you worked it out yet, Hiccup?"

Hecate looks up, startled. Despite blushing as Pippa passed before, she's clearly forgotten that she was there. "Worked out _what?_ " The way she over-pronounces the 'h' makes Pippa's foolish heart skip a beat. Final proof, then, that she simply must see this through. 

"That there's one ingredient you didn't place there yourself, dear Hecate. And that these don't combine to any known potion that I've ever heard of." 

"I thought perhaps a tonic for seizures, but..." 

"Because of the mistletoe," Pippa finishes. She clicks her finger and the sprig of leaves with its white berries is whisked from the desk to hover in the air above Hecate's head. "I forgot to magic in a little gravity control, forgive me." 

"But..." 

"You see, I've tried to screw up my courage every possible way. Our friendship has been the great joy of my life, dear Hecate. But lately, I find myself wanting more and more. If it's more than you can give, I understand, but I simply had to try when an excuse presented itself." 

"You mean to meet me under the mistletoe," Hecate says carefully, standing up and folding her arms over her chest. "Which would imply that this 'more' you want involves the traditional rites of the mistletoe plant?" 

"Or kissing, as most people call it." 

"And do you expect it to work?" Hecate demands, a gleam in her eye that Pippa takes as encouragement. She takes each of Hecate's hands, gently uncrossing her arms before pulling her close. With a glance up to the small plant above them, Pippa summons her bravery and takes the plunge. And a plunge it is, the electricty of finally kissing the woman she cares for so deeply is like falling suddenly into deep water. There's no up or down, and they seem almost weightless as they tentatively exchange soft kisses, one after the other until Pippa is quite dizzy. 

"I think it worked," Pippa whispers, resting her forehead against Hecate's, drawing a thumb softly over an impossibly sculpted cheekbone. "What about you?" 

"I think you should stay for the ball tonight, Pippa," Hecate answers, voice low and honeyed. "I happen to know that the party planning committee has littered the entire ground floor with bundles of mistletoe. I wouldn't want to find myself beneath one again. Not without you." 

"Well, if you insist," Pippa replies, accepting another kiss from Hecate, this one deeper and full of promise. "Do you have a class this period?" 

Hecate shakes her head. How utterly convenient. 

"In that case, I think we should retreat somewhere more private. Practice our mistletoe responses in more detail. Don't you?" 

Hecate has them disapparating before Pippa can finish the question, both of them helpless with laughter when they appear in Hecate's private suite. 

"Hmm, no decorations?" Pippa teases, until a wave of Hecate's fingers blankets the ceiling with mistletoe. 

"Better?" There's weight in Hecate's question, like she's testing how they'll get through this, what they'll look like on the other side of kissing and confessions. 

"Much better," Pippa reassures her. "Now, let's get on with that practice, shall we?" 


End file.
